


Lovers by any other name

by sweariwouldnt



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sex Mentions, Swearing, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:20:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweariwouldnt/pseuds/sweariwouldnt
Summary: Doesn't really matter what you call them. Lovers by any other name are still lovers.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic wouldn't have been possible without Nina for sneezing talks, Amanda and Sara for letting be borrow bits of their actual lives for fic purposes, and also The Anchor by Bastille.  
> (And potentially a bottle of wine.)
> 
> And no, I really do not think there's enough endearingly domestic HarryandLouis in this world.

**Lottie calls them brothers.**

Louis has heard enough tipsy giggling in his lifetime to immediately recognise the sound – especially if the source is his boyfriend and his sister. 

It’s one of the first properly lovely days of Spring, the sun has been shining all day and it’s nearing 20 degrees Celsius. He’s been stuck in the studio writing with Liam, getting strange unfathomable pictures from Lottie on WhatsApp all afternoon, so he technically isn’t _that_ surprised to find Harry and Lottie hanging out in the garden, spread out on the grass on a blanket and giggling loudly at something. Lottie’s holding a hand over her mouth, presumably trying to not snort out whatever’s in her mouth.

“Hello,” Louis bends down to give a kiss to Harry’s right dimple, then putting an arm around Lottie, ruffling the top of her hair with his knuckles. 

“Oi!” Lottie tries to get away and swats his hand. “You’re messing up my hair.”

“You mean improve it,” Louis lets go of her as he spots a pile of branches in the far-right corner of their big garden, scattered around beneath a big rose bush. “What the hell happened there?” He nods towards the bush, looking a lot less all over the place and overgrown than it used to. 

“We fixed it,” Harry has composed himself out of his giggle fit. “Isn’t it nice?” 

Louis takes another look at the poor rose bush, scratching his head. It looks less overgrown, yeah, but it also looks a bit… “Neutered. You neutered the bush. I can count the number of branches left.” 

“Pfft,” Harry waves his hand. “It’s great.” 

“Three, Haz. It has three branches left.” 

“You just don’t get the art of gardening, Lou. Me and Lotts are actually thinking of setting up a gardening channel.”

Louis rolls his eyes and takes a big sip from Harry’s glass. Spritzers. “What are you going to call it, then? Garden gnomes under influence?” 

“Maybe you just gotta tune in to find out.” 

“So you two got drunk and trimmed the bush. Don’t,” Louis points a finger at Harry who he can imagine already has a bush trimming pun brewing in his tipsy mind. 

Lottie huffs. “The bush was awful. And I need to practise my grooming skills, you know. For the future.” 

“Yeah, Lou,” Harry stares at Louis. “Why do you want to stand between your sister and her future?” 

“Yeah bruv, why do you?” 

Louis now has two pairs of big eyes staring at him, challenging. He’s not sure if he hates to love these two or loves to hate them. Not that he really hates them, of course. 

“What did you even use on it? I didn’t know we even had any gardening tools.”

“We do now, we’re well sorted on the gardening tool department,“ Harry smirks. “Did a little trip to B&Q.” 

“You bought garden scissors? You two went to B&Q and bought garden scissors?” 

“Actually,” Harry takes a sip of wine, “they are called anvil secateurs.”

“Bit of garden lingo for you,” Lottie taps her nose and then high fives Harry’s expectantly raised hand.

“And don’t worry, no one spotted us.” 

“We were like garden agents on a quest.” 

“Wearing beanies and caps and sweats.” 

“Lurking behind corners.”

“Hiding behind…”

“Alright, alright,” Louis chuckles and raises his hands in the air, cutting off Harry’s and Lottie’s story of their surely exciting DIY store adventure. “I get it. You two are now heroes wearing garden gloves.” 

“We sure are.” Harry stretches out his hand and squeezes Louis’ ankle. “You can film our garden videos. You know we want you involved in all our fun.”

“Wow, thanks,” Louis sighs, “no tree trimming though. I don’t trust either of you up in high places with sharp objects.”

He closes his eyes, taking a moment to just enjoy the sun on his skin, Harry’s thumb rubbing circles on his ankle and the distinct scent of the perfume Lottie always wears, making him feel quaint. At home. Happy. He feels a cold rim of glass on his lips and opens his eyes to take the sip Harry’s offering him. 

He looks around the little picnic Harry and Lottie have set up, the gold-tinted blanket picking up reflections of sun beams; one empty and one almost full wine bottle, big bowl of red grapes, a big bottle of soda water and a brochure of gardening tools. He picks up the opened wine bottle and waves it slightly. 

“You really should know better, you know.” 

Lottie looks at him, hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun. “Oh shut it, it’s not like…”

“Was talking to Haz here.” 

“Eh? It’s not like she hasn’t ever…” 

“I meant her glass is almost empty. Be more of a gent to my little sis.” 

Harry fills up Lottie’s glass, with a bit of wine and more soda. 

“What’s going on here anyway? Just a random weekday afternoon getting the kid drunk?” 

“Am just giving her a biology lesson,” Harry sounds a bit ashamed and points his hand vaguely towards the grapes. “Like giving a real-life lesson of grapes and how wine is made and all. How nature works.”

Louis nudges Harry with his shoulder. “Ah come off it, babe. She’s 17, of course she can have wine. She’s had wine with both of our mums.”

Harry looks relieved and a little less ashamed. 

“Oi, be nice,” Lottie pipes up. “You know he’s now going to guilt-bake something and send it to mum.” 

“Am not,” Harry mutters but everyone knows it’s a lie. 

“I’m just spending quality time with the bro,” Lottie hums. “Bro. Bruv.” She and Harry share a giggle and Louis is torn between feeling a little bit like an outsider, a lot endeared and slightly offended. 

“Bro? Your bro?” 

“Yeah,” Lottie nods. “Harry’s like the second big brother I never had.” 

“Aw, Lotts,” Harry coos and leans in to hug her. “You’re like the little sister I’ve never had.” 

Louis whistles. “Whoa, ok, hold up, hands off, hang on,” he pulls Lottie and Harry away from each other. “Making me feel like a bit of a Jeremy Kyle case here.” 

“What do you mean?” Lottie is clearly puzzled in making the connection to a trashy telly reality talk show. 

“You don’t know who the father is?” Harry gasps dramatically. 

“Won’t be you in a bit,” Louis scrunches his nose at Harry. “I mean, I love that you love each other and all, but Lotts. Come on. Harry is decidedly not your brother. As he most definitely is not my brother.”

Lottie pouts. “But he feels like one, you know? To me.” 

Louis is about to say something when he feels Harry’s hand over his mouth, shutting him up. “Don’t listen to this one, Lotts. If it helps, I can be your sister.”

Louis sticks out his tongue and licks Harry’s palm, resulting in Harry pulling it off and wiping it on Louis’ shorts. “No hetero, pal.” 

Harry barks out a laugh. “I love that you took more offense to the hetero thing than the incest thing,” and kisses Louis sloppily. 

Lottie shrieks. “Eugh, no, minors around, please stop!”

Louis and Harry laugh and detach themselves from each other’s mouths. Lottie keeps looking at them. 

“How do you do it?” 

“Do what?” Louis asks, still looking at Harry, smiling at him. 

“Be so… you, still. Like you’ve been together for ages.” 

“Ah, four years, an eternity in the eyes of a young one,” Harry hums and then looks at Lottie. “Is everything ok?”

Lottie turns her eyes down and starts picking at the grapes. “Yeh, I guess. Just that Tommy and I…” she sighs. “I think our honeymoon stage is coming to an end. Like he’s getting so annoying, occasionally.”

“What has he done?”

“Nothing, just that… The stuff I first thought was cute is so bloody annoying now. He snores. And not like, aww a cute puppy, but like an annoying, noisy, rusty saw!” Lottie looks distraught at the mere thought. 

Louis starts laughing, he can’t help it. “Harry snores.” From the side of his eye, he can see Harry shake his head at Lottie and mouthing ‘no I don’t’. “And his feet are cold. It’s like sharing a bed with a fucking freezer sometimes.”

Harry raises his eyebrow at him and Louis waves him off. “Oh come off it, I’ve given you this feedback several times.”

“True, he has,” Harry tells Lottie. “And that’s why I now put on socks when he makes a fuss.”

“He does,” Louis looks at Harry and winks. “And that’s just it. You compromise and you pick your fights.”

“Like at least with him snoring, you know he’s alive, you know?” Harry pops a grape to his mouth and another one to Louis’ expectant open mouth. 

Lottie stares at them for a bit, lost for words. “I take it back. You’re not brothers, you’re more like twins.” 

“Don’t worry, bro,” Harry pats Louis’ cheek softly, “I’ll come to Jeremy Kyle with you.” 

Louis decides that’s good enough for him, and after a while, he even stops flinching when Lottie takes on the habit of greeting them with ‘Hello, brothers!’. 

\---

**Gemma calls them husbands.**

Gemma’s in the middle of trying to bullshit her way towards a required word count of a uni report, when her phone beeps. 

**H2Oioii:** _G-Star, I need your devious help with plotting._

_Interested._ Her reply is instant. 

Almost as an afterthought, she sends _Will this be for the good or bad of your hubs?_

**H2Oioii:** _Not my husband._

_Nice priorities._ Gemma rolls her eyes and sends the message. 

**H2Oioii:** _But obviously for his own good. Trust me. You in?_

Gemma chuckles, and replies. _Always._

See, the thing is that Harry is in the top two on the list of people she loves the most. He’s an absolute dork, an annoying brat who gets dramatic and, no offence, is an absolute drama queen sometimes, as she guesses most teenagers are (her excluded, of course, her upset was and is always totally righteous) but especially those ones who are trying to figure out who they really are as people. Harry would be obnoxiously loud when she’d try to read for her A level exams, show up behind a corner making awful kissing noises when she’d have a boy over. She, despite school being her terrain first, would find herself being referred to as Harry Styles’ sister after he started at the same school. Her mop head of a little brother was, however, also the person who brought her ear plugs whilst having put tape over his mouth, ran to the shop in the rain to buy her chocolate when her first real crush ended up in heart break, and always made sure that everyone knew who his sister was and all the reasons why he thought she was the coolest. 

So, ups and downs all considered, Gemma does love her little brother quite a bit. She was a nervous wreck during The X-Factor, many times wishing she could kidnap Harry and whisk him off to a far away island with cats and keep him safe forever. He is a one of a kind person, and Gemma still feels worried that maybe the world isn’t quite ready yet for Harry to take over; to love and accept him with open arms. 

And then, her teenage awkward brother who always thought the best of everyone and had never learned the lesson of being too gullible when it came to people, suddenly had introduced this loud boy who spoke with a thick Yorkshire accent to Gemma and her family. Harry’s eyes had been positively sparkling, and Gemma’s big sister alarm sirens went off loudly.

“It wasn’t that much you, you know, as it would’ve been anyone,” Gemma had confessed to Louis one late night, when Harry’d already gone to bed and they were in the kitchen having a cuppa. “I need to look out for him. You know how he is.”

Louis had nodded, circling the spoon in his mug. “Too good for his own good.”

Gemma sipped of her tea. “Exactly. He’s a bit… special. Not, as in,” she’d rushed to say, “a bad way.”

Louis chuckled. “Special in the best way.” 

“I’m glad we agree.” Gemma extended her hand, and Louis took it, shaking it. “I do very much like you, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Likewise,” Louis looked rather taken with her acceptance, judging from the slight blush rising to his cheeks. 

“But, of course, if you hurt my baby brother,” Gemma narrowed her eyes, “I will chop your balls off.” 

“Honestly, Gemma, if I ever did, I’d hand you the scissors myself.”

And that was that, then. It didn’t take long for Gemma to feel absolutely certain that this loud kid was actually the best thing to happen to her little brother, even better than the show and the band had been. Harry seemed to absolutely beam in Louis’ company, calming down from his slightly panicked prior ways of trying to find his own place in the world, yet he seemed to become more brave and more relaxed, more himself. Gemma didn’t only adore, to think of a better word, the way Louis enhanced her brother’s life, but also she was very much in platonic adoration of Louis himself. He was hilarious, witty and always up for good-humoured messing about. 

“You’re such husbands,” she had blurted out one night, visiting Harry and Louis in their home for dinner. It made her feel like a bit of a spinster really, visiting her 17-year old brother and his partner in their home for a Saturday night dinner.

Harry had turned bright red whilst Louis had choked on his drink. “Uhm,” he’d coughed. 

“Don’t say that, Gems,” Harry mumbled, sounding embarrassed. “We’re not, uhm, you know.” 

“Married,” Gemma helped with a devious glint in her eye. “Well, you’re as good as.” 

She saw a fleeting panic in Harry’s eyes when he turned to look at Louis “We’re not, though.”

Gemma couldn’t help herself. “But you’re probably going to be, right? One day?”

Harry was busying himself with pushing his leftover pepper on his plate, and Louis cleared his throat. “We, ehh, haven’t really… talked about it.”

“We could talk about it now?” Gemma suggested innocently. 

“Gems.” Harry’s voice was low. 

“Ok, sorry, fine,” Gemma said sincerely, “not my business. Plus you’d still need mum’s permission, being a child and all, Haz”. 

The balled-up napkin that had then been thrown towards her was probably quite deserved. 

She’d left the subject, then, but didn’t give up on referring them as Hubs1 and Hubs2 in her head and sometimes, mostly accidentally, to Harry and Louis as well. 

Her phone beeped again, startling her from her thoughts. 

**H2Oioii:** _Don’t freak out, but I need to get your parents to the same place for like dinner or sth and Haz can’t know._

Gemma freaks out. 

\---

**Both of their mums have called them menaces.**

“Told you there was nothing to be nervous about,” Louis nudges Harry’s hip with his as they’re doing the dishes, passing a dinner plate for Harry to dry. 

“Wasn’t nervous,” Harry huffs, “I was cool as a cucumber.” 

Louis laughs lightly. “You were a mess, babe.” 

“Was not.” Harry puts the dried plate on top of five others, extending his hand for Louis to pass on another plate. 

“I know you, Styles. You were so worked up.”

“Maybe,” Harry shrugs and nods then. “I was.” 

“It went so well though, yeah? Our families mesh bloody amazingly. We already knew this.” 

“They do, I just… Really wanted everyone to have a good night.” 

“I know,” Louis presses a light kiss on Harry’s upper arm. “Was a great night.” 

“And the night is still young!” Robin cheers when he enters the kitchen. “I have been asked to come get some glasses. Or, gently ordered to ‘be useful and fetch us drinks, won’t you dear’”. 

“Classic Anne,” Louis chuckles and moves to the cabin with their nicer glasses, passing some to Robin. “We’ll be out in a bit.” 

“Take your time, lads,” Robin says, “I don’t think your mums are quite done with their very positive review of the night yet, either.” 

Harry watches Robin leave the room and dries his hands on a tea towel, washing up all finished. “Why was I so nervous about tonight again?” 

“No idea, babe,” Louis picks up the last piece of brie from the cheeseboard, “just a nice, normal, everyday engagement dinner.” 

Harry raises his brows and opens his arms, a hint for Louis to come cuddle. “Oh, getting engaged is an everyday thing to you, is it?” 

“I think I could get engaged with you on a daily basis, yeh, sure,” Louis mutters against Harry’s throat. 

“Mhm,” Harry’s lips brush Louis’ ear, “me too.” 

They stay in a quiet embrace for a few moments, the buzz and loud laughter from the day spent with all their families having been lovely yet tiring. They’d invited everyone to stay over, had a lovely long dinner, with the kids now asleep upstairs and their parents relaxing in the living room. 

Making their way towards the living room, Harry can make out Jay’s voice vaguely. Jay and Anne are sitting on the sofa with their backs to the door, with Dan and Robin opposite them in chunky chairs. Dan catches Harry’s eyes and sneakily puts his finger on his lips, gesturing them to move closer silently but not make their presence known.

Harry and Louis stop by the door, listening in. 

“And at that point I just had to call Anne, remember love,” Jay puts her hand on Anne’s back, “and it was the first time we really spoke about it…”

“…And it took us hours!” Anne laughs. “And we didn’t know each other that well then, and I remember listening to Jay rant about the boys, and I was listening with my ears absolutely burning, thinking I’d have to drive up to pick Harry up in the middle of the night…”

Jay laughs loudly. “Oh no, did you really!”

Anne turns her face to Jay. “Didn’t I ever tell you? I’d changed off my nightie at that point, listening to you with one ear and then thinking about the absolute bollocking to give Harry!”

Harry and Louis look questioningly at each other, neither knowing what the hell their mums are on about. 

“Absolute menaces, those two were,” Jay nods. “Still are, mind.” 

“Darlings, but absolute pains sometimes,” Anne affirms. “Keeping the whole bloody house up, weren’t they, always!” 

Harry can feel himself turn green. Louis pinches his cheek and holds him back from entering the room.

“I guess that’s new love for you,” Dan glances at the boys lurking on the doorway, taking pity on them. “I’m sure they weren’t that bad.” 

“I still had very young kids at home, honey,” Jay says seriously. “Their absolute constant chattering was keeping us all up. I mean, love them both to bits of course, but my goodness both of their laughter gets so annoying after a while.”

“Rings in your ears,” Anne nods. “Especially when you’re trying to fall asleep.” 

“And if it wasn’t the both of them, they were always on the phone!”

“Harry’s phone bills were ridiculous.” 

“I remember quite a few rows about it,” Robin says. “Rows followed by doors banging shut.” 

“I guess it could’ve been worse,” Anne admits and puts a gentle arm around Jay. “They could’ve not found each other. Meaning we wouldn’t have found each other.”

“Aww,” Jay makes a soft noise and cuddles closer to Anne. She then turns her head over her shoulder, towards the door. “I hope you two creepers realise this is nothing compared to what we’ll say at your wedding.” 

\---

**Nick once called them party poopers.**

It’s some sort of magic, really, a closed-off dreamland, to find themselves in a situation where they don’t have to pretend. Where they are surrounded by people who know what they really are to each other. It being a New Year’s party with their best friends is just an added bonus. 

The party’s great, the playlist they spent hours making is excellent, the snacks and treats are delicious. Also, Louis is looking good enough to eat, pun intended, Harry chuckles by himself as he’s filling up the guacamole (Lou is bloody excellent at making guacamole) and letting his eyes wander around the room, filled with fairy lights, ridiculously kitch props hung up here and there, with faces of people he loves, and sounds of laughter and music being a soundtrack to people enjoying themselves. His eyes scan the room again, looking for his most favourite face, when he feels someone pinch his bum. 

“Come away with me,” Louis tries to whisper, but it comes out loud. He takes Harry’s hand and he happily follows, empty Tupperware container left on the table. 

“Where are we going?” Harry laughs as they pass a couple making out in the hallway. 

“Towards an adventure,” Louis winks. 

Harry feels a bit cheated as Louis leads him to their utility room and hops on top of the washing machine. It’s not even on. “This is your adventure? I feel played.” 

“Shh,” Louis kisses him, “needed to get away from the noise for a bit.” 

“Baby, you are the noise,” Harry laughs against Louis’ lips and wraps his arms around him.

Louis nods, starting to nibble down Harry’s neck. “Loud, loud and loud. Now be quiet with me for a bit.” 

Harry takes a quick glance to the clock on the wall, showing they’ve still got about 15 minutes to midnight. He’s most certainly up for finishing the year with making out a bit.

“Are we being awful hosts,” Harry manages to mutter in between biting Louis’ ear lobe. 

“Yes, the fucking worst, really,” an amused voice interrupts them from the door. “Tut tut, boys. At it like bloody teenagers.” 

“How would you even remember what being a teenager is like,” Louis snorts and smooths his ruffled hair. 

Nick laughs loudly and walks up to them, head butting them gently. “Almost midnight, lovebirds. Come join the party you’re throwing.” 

“This is my party,” Harry starts humming, not quite fitting the words to the tune, “and I’ll be obnoxious if I want to, obnoxious if I want to,” with Louis then joining in with humming the melody. 

Nick shakes his head at them. “Party poopers. Disappearing from your own party. ” 

“We didn’t disappear,” Louis laughs, “we just… Got otherwise occupied. For a bit.” 

Nick throws them a pondering look. “How do you do it, though?” 

“Do what?” Louis asks as he uses his fingers to run through Harry’s hair, flattening it back into order, nodding approvingly to the result. 

“Stay so… In love. Like it’s been years and you’re still… Like, mates, you just left your own party to come smooch.”

“No one says smooch any more, Grimmy,” Harry smiles. 

Nick feigns offended. “You yourself say smooch all the time, young Harold.”

“It’s sarcasm, when I do.” 

“Fine, fine. Give no answers, I’ll ask no more questions,” Nick lifts his hands up as he gives up. “Would you want to now join the people, in your party, that you invited, and welcome 2017?”

Harry and Louis look at each other, as if deep in consideration. 

“Fine,” Louis hops down from the top of the washing machine, “I guess we could.” 

The living room has all the guests gathered, telly on the countdown already, with champagne glasses being passed around. 

“You’re my favourite party,” Louis whispers – again, a little too loudly – to Harry as he passes a glass of bubbly to him. 

Harry can hear Nick make a gagging sound next to him, but doesn’t care. He joins the countdown of people yelling numbers and once the clock strikes midnight, kisses Louis sloppily. It’s the best smooch of the year so far. 

\---

**Niall and Liam call them disgusting.**

“Hey, Payno”, Niall plops down on the sofa where Liam is mindlessly scrolling down on his phone. “Got a proposition for ya.” 

“Shoot,” Liam says absentmindedly. “I’m good in English, I know them all.” 

Niall blinks. “Have you seen your twitter? You’re not, mate.” 

Liam pockets his phone and turns his full attention to Niall. “I’ll forgive that without an apology. Now proposition me.” 

Niall puckers his lips as if sending a kiss. “We need an intervention.” 

Liam furrows his brows. “Who’s been drinking?”

“No no,” Niall hurries, “not for drinking.” 

Liam first looks relieved, everyone’s health very close to his heart, and then looks puzzled. “For what then?”

Niall nods his head towards a corner in the backstage lounge area. “Those two. For pretty much everything, don’t you think?”

Liam extends his neck, seeing Harry and Louis sitting by a table. Harry’s peeling a banana, and apparently swirling his tongue around the tip. 

“I see.” 

“We all see, that’s just it,” Niall covers his eyes with his hands. “My poor innocent mind cannot take it any longer.” 

“What would we say, though? Can’t really tell them to get a room. They’ve got dozens.” 

“Tell them to keep it in any of those rooms?”

“Right,” Liam nods resolutely. “Come along, then.” 

Niall startles. “What?” 

Liam stands up. “Come on, we’ll intervene. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

“Well, sure, but…” 

“Ahhh,” Liam prolongs the sound. “You wanted to play good cop, bad cop. With me as the bad cop and you as the non-existent cop who’s just a messenger. I see how this is.” 

Niall scratches his neck, silently.

“Tough luck, Ireland. You’re coming with.” 

Hesitantly, Niall stands up and follows Liam the table. Louis is just dipping his finger into a yoghurt, lifting it to his lips and licking it, not breaking his intense eye contact with Harry. 

“What’s up, lads?” Louis lifts his eyes and smiles. 

“Harry’s junk, probably,” Liam reckons and turns a chair around, sitting on it. 

“Hey!” Harry protests, blushing, and shifts a bit on his chair, whilst Louis winks at him. 

“Disgusting,” Niall mutters under his breath, getting a look from Liam who clears his throat. 

“So. Boyos. Lads. Pals. Mates. Professional musicians.” 

Liam can see Harry and Louis share a look, one of the many looks he’s seen them share throughout the years; the kind where they seem to exchange quite a few thoughts, not realising that other people can actually see the shared looks as well. 

“Me and Niall come in peace,” Liam carries on sternly. “But we do have something to say.” 

Louis huffs. “Oh come on, Leemo, the walls were definitely not that thin last night, I don’t…”

“Shush,” Liam uses his most authoritative voice and manages to shut Louis up. He looks at Niall, looking for some encouragement, but Niall is looking at his fingers and then lifts his middle finger and starts biting the nail. “We love you. We know you love us. We love that you love each other.” 

Harry beams. “Ah, thanks Liam. We love you too.” 

Liam nods. “But enough is enough. Some things are just, eh, better to be private.” 

Harry looks puzzled whilst Louis huffs. “What do you mean?” 

Liam can now feel a slight blush start creeping on his ears. He, weirdly, always blushes on is ears first. “Just, maybe, you know. Cut it down a bit?” 

“Cut what down, exactly?” Louis sounds challenging and a bit annoying. “Why don’t you spell it out so me and Haz here can understand?”

“You’re too fucking sexy,” Niall blurts out. “Stop being so, so filthy.” 

Harry looks taken aback. “Filthy?” 

“I saw you eat that banana, H. You were devouring that banana.”

“Oh,” Harry mumbles quietly. “Uh, sorry?” 

“It’s not just the banana,” Liam adds softly, afraid that Harry is now put off bananas for a lifetime. “Sometimes, and I totally know you are in love, and it’s great, it really is, just… Maybe sometimes be less… In love, in public. You know?” 

Louis sits up straighter, with his ‘little shit’ face on, when Liam feels Harry kick him under the table. 

“Sure, of course.” 

Louis raises his eyebrows at Harry, who continues. “We’ll be… We’ll behave.” 

Liam nods, gives a kind look to all three of his bandmates. “Good. Great. And I mean, we mean, of course you can be like you are, just maybe… keep it suitable for kids. Keep it PG,” he tries to twist his fingers in what he guesses is a pretty street credible gesture. 

Harry nods, seriously and determinedly. “Absolutely. Sorry.” He gives a stern look to Louis. “We’ll be good. Right, Lou?” 

Louis nods, and Liam can hear Niall let out a partly relieved, partly nervous laugh. He’s not very surprised to see Harry and Louis look at each other and leave the room, and when the gig starts, he tries his hardest to not pay attention to any swollen lips he might see. 

\---

**They sometimes call themselves Matt and Mike.**

Louis looks at Harry, tucking his hair under a beanie in front of the mirror in their LA house. “I’ve been thinking.” 

“And how was it?” Harry asks nonchalantly, deserving a swat on his bum. 

“We need fake names.” 

“But we have fake names?” Harry’s now rummaging through his collection of sunglasses. 

“No, not like official ones,” Louis picks up a pair of aviators and hands them to Harry, ”for like right now.”

“I’m lost?” 

“Like, when we go out,” Louis picks up a pair of Ray-Bans, “we need random names. Like, if we go out and call each other our real names, it might create attention if someone hears us.” 

“Ah,” Harry seems to get it, “so like aliases.” 

“Yup, exactly. I don’t think we’re that recognisable, with our appearance right now, but someone might add up vague resemblance and the names and hey ho.” 

“Alright,” Harry agrees and considers. “I think I feel like a Matt.” 

Louis looks at Harry from head to toe. “Yeah, you look like a Matt. What do I look like?”

Harry’s quiet for a bit, and then finally starts smiling. “You’re a Mike, for sure.” 

Louis laughs. “Matt and Mike?” 

“Matt and Mike,” Harry nods. 

It’s a perfect day, really. They drive around LA, basking in sunlight and a cool summer breeze, stopping the heat from being too unbearable. They get iced coffees for the long drive to Huntington Beach, where Harry at least thinks he saw dolphins or maybe whales or maybe unicorns, as per Louis’ suggestion. There’s a delicious take away lunch, enjoyed in a less populated park. 

“Matt and Mike sure know how to enjoy the day,” Harry muses happily as he slurps the last drops of his kiwi and mango smoothie. “I envy them.” 

“Why?” 

Harry shrugs. “Just, being free to do what they want.” 

Louis reaches out his hand and takes Harry’s in his. “We’ll have that, one day.” 

Harry smiles at him, a little wistfully. “I know.” 

On their way driving back home, Harry suddenly grabs Louis’ thigh. “Stop, wait, turn around!” 

“The fuck, Haz?” Louis turns the wheel and pulls over, brakes screeching. “You can’t fucking do that.” 

“Sorry Lou,” Harry leans in to give Louis a kiss as he unbuckles is seat belt. “Just saw something.” 

Louis looks, dumbfounded, as Harry gets out of the car, runs across the road, without traffic thank goodness, stands in front of a shop and seems to – take a picture? - and then runs back to the car. He’s beaming as he takes a seat and puts his seat belt back on. 

Louis looks at him, shakes his head and restarts the engine. “You’re so fucking weird, did you know?”

Harry shakes his finger at Louis. “Careful there. Otherwise I might go buy this!” His voice goes up vindictively as he has pulled up a picture on his phone, waving it in front of Louis. 

“You’re literally endangering both of our lives right now, babe,” Louis says as he stops at a reds light and takes a look. 

It’s a picture of an extremely dodgy looking shop window, with a big banner advertising ‘$399 divorces sold here!’. 

“Eh?” Louis glances at Harry, puzzled. 

“Isn’t it great?” 

Louis mentally counts to ten whilst keeping an eye on the traffic light, which finally turns green. “We’re not even married yet and you get that gleeful over cheap divorces?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “No, I wouldn’t actually ever divorce you. It’s just funny. I’ll wave this at you every time you’re being a pain.” 

Louis makes a quick move to take the phone off Harry’s hand, screensaver now on, and thumbs in the security code, with the picture popping up on the screen again. He pushes the screen up to Harry’s face who has the audacity to just laugh. “You’ve just played yourself. Congrats. Threatening me with a fake divorce that you’ve explicitly said you’d never actually do.” 

Harry’s almost doubled up on his seat, laughing. “Nah, come on. It’s a bit funny.” 

“I’ll show you funny, you weird divorcing freak,” Louis huffs and considers for a bit. “I’ll get a dog, a rescue dog, for free, and feed the marriage license to it. Will be even cheaper than your sad 400 dollars.” 

“I’d divorce you just for getting a dog,” Harry’s now wiping his eyes. 

“I’m going to find one when we get home. Save you the trouble of a wedding and all.”

“Shut up, Mike,” Harry laughs. “You’ll never get rid of me.” 

“Watch me, Matt”, Louis grits and pulls the car to a halt as they arrive home. 

Getting off the car, Harry walks around it over to Louis and hugs him. “I think I’d rather be us than Matt and Mike, after all.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“They’re the kind of people who might get a divorce.”

“And we’re not?” Louis kisses Harry’s temple softly 

“Nah,” Harry holds Louis tighter. “I’ll delete the pic.” 

“Keep it. I want to have a look at those rescue dogs.” 

\---

**Harry calls Louis a variety of cute animal names.**

To be fair, maybe it was Louis who initially started it. 

“You’re like a little kitten,” he’s said more fondly than planned, at the sight of Harry curled up in front of the fire place. “Shall I bring you a bowl of milk?” 

Harry had stirred, stretched out his legs and made a meowing sound, smiling tiredly at Louis who had curled up behind him, Harry making room for his head on the cushion on the floor, and scratched behind Harry’s ear until they’d fallen asleep. 

Louis is currently having the most excellent dream. He’s up on stage on a random stadium, giving the performance of a lifetime, and whilst he’s singing, there’s an invisible array of footballs shot onto the stage that he needs to kick to the other end of the stadium, far, far away, to a goal that’s actually a giant carbon copy of Simon Cowell’s stupid head, with his mouth as the goal. Louis’ brilliant dream is suddenly interrupted by something tickling under his nose. Slowly, he opens his eyes, blinks and takes in the dark surroundings. His still sleepy brain comes to the conclusion that it’s either a very early morning or still in the middle of the night – either way, a completely unreasonable time to be cruelly woken up. The tickle under his nose continues and he automatically swats the source, thinking it’s probably a fly. He feels a press of cool lips on his cheek, then on his shoulder, next on his chest, somewhere between his underarm and nipple. 

“Good morning, duckling,” Harry’s hoarse and quiet voice says. 

“Duckling?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Harry’s lips are fluttering against his chest as he hums. “My wee duckling.” 

“Not little,” Louis closes his eyes at the pleasant feeling of Harry’s lips on his skin, “nor yellow.”

Harry stops with the kisses and props his jaw on Louis’ chest, looking at him questioningly. He looks sleepy, he looks beautiful. “But you quack and know how to swim, no?” 

“I don’t quack,” Louis chuckles lowly. 

Harry smiles and runs his fingers up from Louis chest to his lips, waddling them like a duck’s walk would look like. “Quack, quack.” 

“So you’re calling me an ugly duckling, is that what this is?” 

“Prettiest duckling,” Harry smiles and lays his cheek on Louis’ chest, with Louis raising his hand to pet Harry’s hair.

“You really woke me up just to call me a duckling?” Louis is amused, in a very tired way. 

“Hmm,” Harry sounds like he’s falling back asleep. “And to be close.”

Louis’s about to reason that sleeping cuddled up under one big duvet and wrapped around each other is actually being quite close, but Harry’s started snoring softly so he just lets the sound lull himself back to sleep, too. 

\---

**Louis occasionally calls Harry out.**

“Is that… a pink feather boa around your neck?” Louis asks as Harry takes the blindfold off him. 

“Uh, yes,” Harry says unsurely, “yes it is.”

“Where’d you get that?” Louis gently runs his index finger down the pink feathers. 

“That’s for me to know,” Harry grinds down on Louis’ lap, “and for you to not know .” 

Harry’s feeling a bit insecure, in all honesty. He’s put candles up all over their bedroom, managed to squeeze himself into something very skimpy that he thinks – hopes – would be considered as sexy underwear in Louis’ eyes, he’s pretty much being quite a bit of hoe, in a nice way of course, and he’s not sure this was such a good idea after all. 

“You look luscious, babe,” Louis finally gets his eyes off the boa and onto Harry, and not just his eyes, his hands are cupping Harry’s bum and squeezing gently. “So fucking sexy.”

Harry leans in to lick Louis’ lips and takes the ends of the feather boa on his hands, pulling the other end so he could slide it around Louis’ neck and pull him closer, maybe do a bit of…

…sneezing. Instead of sexy stuff, Harry sneezes. Twice. 

Louis tries to keep his pose as he wipes a hand down his face. “Bless you, babe.” 

“Thanks,” Harry sniffs and sneezes again. “Bloody hell,” he rubs his runny nose. 

“Not quite the bodily fluids I thought we’d be exchanging today.”

“Fuck off,” Harry rubs the feather boa on Louis’ face. “Don’t ruin this.” 

Louis chuckles despite himself. “Sorry, Sniffles,” he squeezes Harry’s hip and pulls him closer. “Maybe you’re allergic to it?” 

Harry looks disgruntled. “Who’d be allergic to a feather boa?” 

“Someone with a ridiculously sensitive hay fever?” Louis quirks his eyebrow. 

Harry opens his mouth, about to say something, and then closes it. Louis is probably right, especially considering he dug this monstrosity out of his nan’s closet and there’s probably decades of dust on it. Harry shivers and throws the feather boa on the floor. 

“Sorry,” he looks down at his lap, feeling his face turn the same shade of pink that the boa was and that his lace panties also are. “I’m a mess.” 

Louis hugs him tightly, in a more companionable than turned on way. “You’re my mess.”

Harry feels himself relax as he feels Louis’ hands slowly running up and down his back, gently pressing on the ridges of his spine. 

“Have you ever thought about how orgasmic sneezing really is?” Louis says after a while. 

Harry laughs. 

“No, really,” Louis’ speech becomes quicker like it always does when he gets excited. “Think about it. You first have the build-up, like you know something’s coming.”

“Uhm…”

“And then you have the actual thing, like the intense physical reaction, the peak, yeah?” 

Harry looks at him incredulously. “Yeah…”

“And finally, after it’s over, you get this total relaxation, like a post-orgasmic chill.” 

Harry stares at Louis, chewing his lip whilst he considers this theory, and finally nods to agree. “Is this going where I think it’s going?” 

“Where do you think it’s going?” Louis’ hands make their way down Harry’s back and stop on the dimples on his lower back, with one finger dipping down into the panties. 

“You’re going to say I basically just came three times and now I owe you.” 

Louis cracks up, tapping Harry’s left butt cheek gently to motion him to get up from Louis’ lap. “You’re correct,” he winks. “Now give me a swirl and then get on your knees, please.” 

After that night, Harry feels a bit like Pavlov’s dog, blushing violently every time he sneezes publicly if Louis is around, whilst willing himself to not get hard. 

“You’re fucking useless, babe,” Louis laughs at him as they’re about to sit down on a sofa for album promo. “Keep those sneezes in.” 

Harry, true to his useless form, fails and as he hears Louis tell him, on camera that dickhead, to ‘get them sneezes out’, that it’s about time to pull out that cheap divorce ad picture again.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed - if you did, please leave a comment or click on kudos, it will make my day x


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